


Pancakes

by Settledvagabond



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Adorable, F/F, Morning After, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settledvagabond/pseuds/Settledvagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vera's very proud of her pancakes.  But she wouldn't say so.</p><p>(A quick little bit of fluff after all the darkness of that finale)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes

At first, she thought she was dreaming.

 

She heard a singing - half-hummed, delicate, distant - like a siren's song, words indiscernible but enticing and beautiful.  She hadn't heard such a lovely voice in a  _very_  long time.  

 

Sweet smells met her nose, crystalline sugar and cinnamon on the air, scented companion to the melody.  With a warm, broad smile, she turned over in her sleep, the sheets slipping against her skin.  She smiled even wider as she settled back down again.  It was warm, cozy, the smells and sounds wafting in gently on the soft breeze from a nearby window.  Oh, she was waking up, but she didn't want to wake fully, not just yet... But if she just woke up a bit, she reasoned, maybe she would recognize the song...

 

Her mind began to rouse itself a bit more, perking to decipher the long lost tune...

 

Something felt... Wrong.

 

Joan Ferguson woke with a terrified start in a completely unfamiliar bed.

 

For a cold, heart-stopped moment, Joan's fingers gripped the sheets around her and she was still as a block of ice.  Only her eyes moved in her head, scanning the environment: Dresser, bureaus... closet... mirror, all unfamiliar.  She swallowed nervously, sitting up a bit, biting her lower lip.  She didn't feel intoxicated, so she probably hadn't been drugged.  She noticed something on the floor - was that her... What was her uniform shirt doing on the...

 

And with an almost audible CRACK Joan remembered everything.

 

"OH," she said aloud, blushing deeply.

 

  
_Vera's_ , she thought,  _I'm still at Vera's._  Immediate relief washed over her, and she slumped back into the bed - a cobra that had gone from defense to limp in a moment's breath.

 

Her hands resting over the still-hammering heart in her chest, Joan listened to Vera sing.

 

*****

Downstairs, her curious little siren flitted about the kitchen - stirring something here, swishing something there - her feet moving swiftly and lightly across the old linoleum.  There hadn't been this much light, or this much heart, in that kitchen for longer than the house itself could remember.  A warm breeze from the window above the sink kissed Vera's throat, brushed her skin, tingling the hairs on the back of her neck, and she smirked involuntarily at how much it felt like being kissed.  Every now and then, too, a snatch of memory of last night would hit her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling - it was beginning to hurt her cheeks, smiling so much!  She ventured she hadn't smiled this much or this hard in her whole life, not even as a baby.

 

"Hmm hmm hmmmmmm - Joan?" she called out, tentatively.  No response.  "Breakfast is about ready," she sing-songed to herself.  Joan was in all likelihood still asleep, and she wasn't about to interrupt what was probably one of the only sleep-in mornings the governor got.

 

She had been surprised to find Joan a late sleeper - she wouldn't have pegged her for one, that's for sure.  But without her familiar settings, her body was probably more relaxed.  Vera had slipped out of bed with hardly a skip in Joan's light snoring.  She had found it almost impossibly adorable that the fearful governor not only snored, but muttered softly in her sleep - O _ld ghosts, no doubt_ , thought Vera.  She was not unfamiliar with such things herself.  There were still nights she woke up in a cold sweat, thinking her mother was wailing her name.

 

No time for that, though, not today.  She shook off the dark thoughts like water from her hair after a dip in the ocean.  No, after last night, there was room for nothing but good thoughts.  

 

Well... "good" and "not naughty" weren't the same thing, exactly.  Vera grinned mischievously and slid a pancake off of the pan and onto a plate.

 

"Joan?" she called over her shoulder, this time in earnest, scrapping at bits of leftover batter with a spatula.

 

Vera suppressed a surprised squeak as warm, firm hands encircled her from behind, resting on her belly familiarly.  She could not, however, stifle the jolt that went through her as Joan exhaled against her left ear.

 

"Mmm... that smells de _licious_ ," Joan purred into Vera's ear, Vera's subtle shudder giving Joan secret satisfaction.  She pressed her nose into Vera's throat, breathing in deeply the scent of her.  The combination of the sugar from the pancakes and Vera's own particular floral scent was heady and intoxicating.  Vera sighed - and fought the surprisingly immediate wave of arousal as she wriggled her way out of Joan's embrace.

 

"It's nothing fancy, I'm afraid," she said, giggling slightly.  

 

  
_Why am I laughing?_   

 

"Just some pancakes," she said, rationing them out onto two plates.  Joan smiled behind Vera's back and shook her head.

 

"Modesty doesn't suit you, Vera," she said, reaching around her to pick up the plates from the counter.  When Vera made a noise of protest, Joan merely stared down at her, one eyebrow cocked like a loaded gun.  Vera swallowed at their proximity, having trouble breathing.  She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering what she could get away with, looking like a child who had been caught with a cookie but was going to be allowed to eat it anyway.

 

"Oh all right," Vera relented, and, slipping under Joan's arm, set about finding them glasses for the orange juice she had already set out on the table.  The air from the open window was warm and pleasant while she looked for silverware.  

 

Warm, yellow sunlight cut through the kitchen and into the dining room.  She swallowed hard as she watched Joan's hips sway through that slash of light on her way to the dining room, utterly unconvinced that Joan wasn't adding some extra swing on purpose.

 

"Tease," Vera muttered, following with glasses and silverware.

 

Joan turned back to her, her face a mask of innocence.

 

"What was that?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and blinking far too much to not be making fun as she set down their plates, just next to each other on either side of one corner of the table.

 

"Oh stop it, you," Vera said, swatting her playfully with a fork.  

 

Their gaze met for a second and Vera swallowed suddenly, unable to maintain eye contact.  She averted her eyes, fighting a smile.  It seemed she was fighting everything to not simply explode with joy at what was happening.  

 

Their familiarity was almost unnerving in its vibrancy.  It was as if all the dark tension between them had only been covering up this... this... Vera didn't know what to call it.  She knew what she  _wanted_  to call it, but dared not even think the word.  They both paused a moment, eyes appraising where each others hands and mouths had been only so many hours ago.  The bright, clear air was for a moment loaded and sharp as a slap.

 

Joan was sitting against the table, her hands steadying her.  Vera circled behind her, sheepishly arranging the silverware and glasses - they both smiled secret smiles away from each other.

 

"So.  About last night," Joan said, leaving the words hanging in the air as she stood up and went to take her seat.  Vera hesitated for a moment, then eagerly took her chair and moved it right against the corner of the table, as close to Joan as she dared to get.  Simply sitting in her lap seemed out of order, though she wanted so much to simply do so.

 

"What about last night, Governor?" she said, with full awareness of the title.  She poured herself a glass, face brightening at the attempt at being coy.  After a moment of confusion, Joan quickly caught on.  She screwed her features into their familiar authoritative mask.

 

"Oh that how it's going to be, is it, little mouse?"  She slid her chair closer to Vera, and as Vera was indisposed filling Joan's glass of orange juice, was able to uninterruptedly run her right hand up Vera's thigh til it was almost at the heat of her.  Joan kept her hand there, unmoving, at the top of Vera's thigh.  She leaned in to Vera, breathing hotly through her curls.

 

"I don't remember you shouting "Governor" last night," she said, so husky and dark that Vera could feel a pulse between her legs.  "As I recall," she continued, squeezing Vera's thigh firmly, "It was something along the lines of J...ju...Jo-"

 

"Oh STOP," Vera begged, though there was laughter in her voice.  She pulled back and Joan relented, releasing her thigh.

 

"Just checking," Joan said, eyes big and innocent.

 

Vera narrowed her eyes at her and shook her head, as if to say "Don't you play innocent with me, Joan Ferguson".  Joan simply shrugged it off and started cutting her pancakes with a studied precision that didn't surprise Vera in the slightest.  She cut into her own pancakes with much less specificity, distracted as she was by the adorable face of concentration Joan made as she tried not to smile.  Vera took a sip of her orange juice, savoring the bite on her tongue.  It was as if they both might pop - or more likely that someone might come in and steal their happiness if either of them revealed too much.

 

After a moment, Vera spoke, reaching for and liberally pouring herself some syrup.

 

" _About_  last night though," she said, glancing up at Joan now and again, "Seriously."

 

Joan looked up from her pancakes and thought for a moment.  Then, deciding something, she reached to take the syrup from Vera, their fingers touching around the bottle.  Joan set the bottle down and took both of Vera's hands in hers, swallowing them up almost entirely.

 

"Oh it was quite serious," Joan said, looking Vera straight in the eyes.  Vera felt this was important, and even though the touch of Joan's hands set hers on fire, and Joan's eyes burned into her, she did not look away.

 

"I... I would like for us to... to see each other," Vera managed.  "Outside of work."  

 

  
_And the bedroom_ , they both thought, but neither would say.

 

Vera's face was flushed and she was very much aware that her hands were beginning to sweat. 

 

"Like... real dates," she said, feeling slightly stupid.  "Dinner... movies.... Mi... mini golf."  She swallowed hard - Joan's expression hadn't changed at all.  "That is, if that's at all a... if that's at all a possibility.  If that's something you want."  

 

Now she couldn't help but look away, she was so embarrassed.  What if that wasn't what Joan wanted at all?  What if all Vera was... was a... a fuck?

 

Joan reached one of her hands across the table, her fingers slipping beneath Vera's chin.  She lifted Vera's reluctant face upwards - and tried not to show how surprised she was to find tears in those trembling blue eyes.

 

"This was not just about sex, Vera, you have to know that," Joan said softly.  She stroked Vera's cheek lightly with her thumb, cradling her face lovingly.  At that, Vera steeled herself, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly.

 

"Alright?" Joan asked.  Vera swallowed and nodded.  "Alright then."

 

She leaned bodily across the table and touched her lips ever so gently to Vera's.  Vera positively could have cried at the way it felt, the way Joan's hair brushed against her face, flooding Vera with the scent of her.  Joan held the kiss just a moment, then pulled back slightly, smiling fondly.  Then she sat back in her chair.

 

"Right then," she said, settling herself excitedly.  "Let's shake that off and enjoy these delicious-looking pancakes, shall we?"

 

She smiled brightly and Vera could not help but return the smile.  Joan dug into her pancakes with a childish glee.

 

  
_I could get used to this_ , Vera thought, watching Joan eat, content just to stare at her forever.

 

Vera eventually lifted her fork, speared one of her own haphazardly cut pieces and - shaking her head once in disbelief - ate pancakes with Joan.


End file.
